


Revenge is Sweet

by alyjude_sideburns



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Backstory, Case Fic, Established Relationship, Halloween, Holidays, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-19
Updated: 2014-03-19
Packaged: 2018-01-13 22:19:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1242658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alyjude_sideburns/pseuds/alyjude_sideburns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A young Blair pulls one over on two older boys at Halloween...</p><p>Note: Is being corrected as of August 11, 2014 - you'll find a set of asterisks where I've temporarily stopped the revision. This note will reflect the date the corrections are completed. Thank you!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Revenge is Sweet

**Revenge is Sweet by Alyjude**

 

 

**October 31, 1977 - 7:00pm Cascade, Washington**

It was a perfect Halloween. Cold, windy, and a full moon casting long, dark, scary shadows into every corner of every street; it was the perfect night for trick-or-treating.

The small, eight-year-old boy stood on the sidewalk, two larger boys on either side. He should have felt safe, but didn't. Alex and Alan weren't with him to keep him safe, but rather to ensure he delivered on their dare.

"Well, BabyBlair, you gonna do it?" the one on his right asked.

'BabyBlair' stared up at the dark, forbidding house - at the shuttered windows, huge oak front door - at the overgrown vegetation surrounding the house like ghosts - at the ruin that was the infamous Marchand Mansion. He gulped but nodded. "yes," he managed to get out. He took a deep breath and added, "i'm gonna do it. do it now. i'm not afraid." And he wasn't - exactly. It was just a house. An stupid, empty house he was going to enter - on All Hallow's Eve.

Alex, the fifteen-year-old on the boy's left, looked over the top of the tousled, curly head, to his twin brother Alan, and grinned wolfishly before instructing, "Okay, you have to go inside and stay for one hour - and then we'll come back and get you. Understood?"

Before Blair could answer, Alan jumped in with, "If you make it the whole hour, don't leave..." Alan lowered his voice and, in his best imitation of Boris Karloff, finished with, "...and come out alive, you get to join our club. Now go, BabyBlair." He gave the smaller child a nudge.

Blair took another deep breath, put out one small hand...and pushed the large, black wrought-iron gate open...and entered the property.

Alan and Alex remained where they stood, both smiling deliciously, with knowing anticipation of the inevitable conclusion.

Blair gave one last, long look back, took in a painful breath, then began to trudge slowly up the long, shadowy walk to the front porch, and ultimately the front door.

"I give BabyBlair two minutes inside before he runs back to us, balling his eyes out and screaming for his mommy," Alex posited.

"I say he'll make it to the front porch before he collapses from fear and we have to go in to rescue the baby. But at least we'll have him out of our hair."

"Yeah. What do you suppose Dad sees in that pipsqueaks mom, huh?"

"Well, if you don't know, than you're dumber than I've ever given you credit for, Alan."

Alan frowned, as the remark slid right over his head. "You think he'll marry the bitch, bro?"

"You don't marry that kind, you fuck 'em, then dump 'em."

Both boys were speaking in their normal voices but completely unaware how easily they could be heard by Blair, who was still walking toward the big door. He balled his small hands into fists as he bit his lower lip to stop the tide of threatening tears. But he kept walking. Forward. How better to prove that he *and* his mother were worthy? Were brave and good?

Naomi had brought him here to Cascade three months ago, from Bakersfield, California, because she'd fallen in love with a man named August Winters; father to Alex and Alan. Divorced, wealthy, handsome and 11 years Naomi's senior. He loved her and he loved Blair. Which was why Blair was here now, going through with this stupid dare. Alex and Alan were jealous. Even a eight-year-old boy could see that. Their dad was forcing them to include Blair in everything they did, so this was their way of getting back at him while making sure he didn't bother them again. Which was stupid, because in two weeks, they'd be with their mother in Greece.

But Blair had to do this - because two weeks was a long time, a very long time to make one eight-year-old miserable. So he had to prove his worth. He just _had_ to.

He continued up the walkway even though what he really wanted to do was run back and punch them both - in the balls. Best he could reach.

Back on the sidewalk, Alan turned to his brother, an evil smile on his face. "Hey, bro," he whispered, "who says we have to stay here and wait? Why don't we make _sure_ he comes running out screaming?"

"Al, I like your thinking. Let's go 'round back and nip this step-brother thing in the bud."

They shook on it, then hurried around the corner, neither of them taking any notice of a man in the shadows; a man watching the small boy.

 ________________________________________________________________________________

"Jimmy, no. I said no."

"Shit. You promised. I go to Joanie's Halloween party for two hours with you, then you go with me to Stan's party."

"I've changed my mind. I want to stay here. Stan's party is a bunch of losers."

"Those 'losers' you're talking about are my friends, Jen."

 The tall, willowy blonde pouted as she looked up at her date through long dark lashes. "Friends or not, they're still losers. This is a hot party and I'm not leaving. Period."

Jim Ellison gazed down at his date, his lips drawn into a straight line. She was beautiful, smart, and spoiled rotten so why was he dating her, anyway? But he knew the answer. Because he was supposed to. He was the Captain of the Cascade High School football team - she was the head cheerleader and it was an unwritten high school rule: Captain dated cheerleader. And if he bucked it...he'd be an outcast, which was just the worst thing that could happen to a guy - or girl - in high school. So he dated Jennifer Reynolds and, as of two weeks ago, was also 'doing' her. Big deal.

 God, he was tired, and it was only October. One month into their senior year with eight more until he could leave Cascade. He looked down at Jennifer and made up his mind. He didn't have to wait eight months to leave her. Firm in his resolve, he said with what he hoped was an air of nonchalance, "Fine, you stay here. I'm going to Stan's. I'm sure Rick will get you home." With that, he turned on his heel, pushed his way through the costumed crowd of high-school revelers and stalked out the front door.

Once on the sidewalk, he took a breath of clean, crisp, wood-burning Autumn air. And smiled. He didn't feel guilty in the slightest - just relieved. And free. And happy. He noticed - and enjoyed - all the small ghosts, goblins, witches, Luke Skywalkers, Han Solos and Obi-Wan Kenobis walking the streets, their flashlights playing on each other, candy-filled bags swinging as youthful giggles rang through the night air, matching the sound of doorbell after doorbell ringing and voices chorusing, "Trick or Treat!" Still smiling, Jim headed for Stan's party.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

The door. It looked so huge to Blair as he gazed up at it. He put his hand on the knob, praying it was locked, and turned. It wasn't locked. He pushed and it creaked open. It was a night of deep breaths so he took another one before...finally...stepping inside.

Out on the street, a dark figure separated itself from the shadows, walked up to the gate, pushed it open as Blair had just minutes ago, and started a slow, deliberate walk towards the door.

___________________________________________________________________________________________ 

The door swung shut with a loud thud that startled Blair. He whirled around, expecting to see a monster behind him, but sighed in relief as he realized it was only the now closed door.

Heart beating wildly and his breath coming in gasps, he took another step forward, glad that so many of the boards that had been put on the outside, were now torn down, as it allowed both the brightness of the full moon and the corner streetlights to illuminate Blair's way. He took several more steps and found himself in a large foyer with a room to his right, another one to his left, and ahead, a large staircase.

He put his hand to his mouth and absently nibbled on one fingernail as he looked from one room to the other, trying to decide which way to go. Then his mother's words came back to him, " _Blair, don't chew your nails_ ", so he dropped his arm to his side. He...could...just stand here...for one hour. The dare would be done, bargain kept. Then he shook his head. Sure, the letter of the dare would be intact, but...and he hated 'but's', not the spirit of the dare; of the test. He made his choice - and turned to his right. He moved bravely ahead, his tennis shoes making a squeaking sound on old, rotting linoleum.

Something soft and sticky and icky fanned across his face, bringing his hands up immediately to swat the offending 'whatever' from his face. The 'whatever' turned out to be spider webs; big spider webs. Lots of spider webs. Tons of spider webs. And where there were spider webs, yeah, big, fat, ugly spiders. Blair shivered. But continued forward, hands still scrapping at his face and hair as he bit down hard on his bottom lip.

___________________________________________________________________________________

 Jim decided to take a shortcut to Stan's by cutting across a field to Marchand Ave. He hated not having a car, certain that he was the only high-school senior without one. He was equally angry at his father, who wouldn't loan him his tonight, of all nights. Damn. Only eight more months and he was outta here.

As he turned onto Marchand, he wasn't surprised to see the street empty of Trick-or-Treaters, since the street was avoided after dark like the plaque, thanks to the Marchand Mansion; empty for the last ten years because of Cascade's only mass murder. In this case, the murder of the entire Marchand family at the hands of Emmett Marchand. The man had lost his entire fortune and decided to take it out on his wife, two teenage sons and the family dog. But at least he'd put the same gun he'd used on his family, to his own head and blown his brains out.

It was said that Emily Marchand haunted the house, that at night, sounds of crying and gun shots could be heard...but Jim Ellison didn't believe in ghosts. In fact, Jim Ellison believed in very little, except he'd be in the Army in eight months. And he'd be free. He kept walking, and whistling - until he noticed a lurking figure in the shadow of the Marchand porch. He frowned, squinted his eyes, and concentrated....

A man. Tall, breathing hard and peering into a window on the right side of the house... Jim cocked his head, concentrating harder...this time in order to listen....

A heartbeat. Coming from _inside_ the house...and tentative footsteps, light on the wood floors, treading slowly and carefully...maybe afraid? Suddenly there was a sharp intake of breath, a gasp that caused Jim to hurry his pace as fear pricked at his spine because he was too far away....

____________________________________________________________________________________

Alan and Alex made their way around the back, squeezed in through an opening in the fence and made their way to the back door. Alex tried the knob, but it wouldn't budge so they both looked at the windows and found none open or broken enough to allow entrance. As they stood there, uncertain of their next move, a sound from above caught their attention; a black cat, pouncing onto a tree branch from the ledge above. But more importantly, they could see an open window on the second floor. Alex smiled at his brother, who smiled back. They both walked over to the tree and began to climb.

___________________________________________________________________________________

Jim saw the man step into the house and with a sudden surge of protectiveness...for whom he didn't know...he started to run.

___________________________________________________________________________________

Blair turned toward the huge fireplace to his left. Moonlight beams fell on a portrait over the great stone fireplace...and Blair found himself drawn to it. He walked forward, eyes frozen on the oil painting, the smiling face and friendly eyes of a beautiful, ethereal blonde woman gazing down on him. Her hair was loose and flowing and she wore a blue gown that billowed out from a tiny waist. He was so entranced, he never heard the man until a strong hand grabbed his arm and whirled him around.

"What are you doing here, boy?" a harsh voice asked.

Blair found himself looking up into dark, angry, hungry-looking eyes.

"i...i, my brothers, i'll leave, i'm sorry."

The huge man leaned down as he gripped Blair's sweat shirt, gave a yank, and pulled Blair up and off his feet. "You'll not leave, boy. You'll not leave this house ever."

As Blair hung, helpless in the man's grip, his legs kicking uselessly, Alan and Alex, now on the second-floor landing, froze as fear invaded every pore. Somehow they managed to sneak a look at each other and, by some quiet, unsaid agreement, they stepped back a step, then another, and another. When they reached the room with the open window, they climbed out and over to the tree. Then, without a thought for their 'brother', they climbed down as fast as possible. Once on the ground, they ran, and ran, and ran.

___________________________________________________________________________________

Jim heard the man's words, the menace behind them, and knew he had to stop whatever was about to happen; to help the person at whom those words had been said. He ran up the walkway, burst through the front door and, without hesitation, tackled the man, thus throwing all three of them forward.

Blair, even as he dangled from the man's grip, spotted the dark shape that hurtled toward them and suddenly, he was flying through the air before thudding against a chair and dropping to the floor.

__________________________________________________________________________________

Jim rolled with the big man, hands grappling, legs kicking, but somehow, the bigger man managed to scramble away and to his feet.

"Whoa, boy, just one minute--relax. I'm not the enemy," the man said, humor in his voice.

Jim, who'd rolled upward and into a fighting stance, stopped dead.

"Just trying to teach the kid a lesson," the man went on. "Scare him good. He should know better than to be around this house after dark. I'm Caleb Marchand. President of the Cascade Merchant Bank - and you're - yes, I recognize you, young fellow. You're William's oldest boy, right?"

Jim straightened slowly. He brushed off his jeans even as he looked hard at the man...and now he did, in fact, recognize him. He was a golf buddy of his dad's and had even been to their home.

Across the room, a confused Blair Sandburg was on his knees and feeling ashamed. Blushing furiously and wanting nothing more than to crawl into a hole and never come out, he looked for a quick way out and realized he was next to a hallway. He crawled forward and, once in the darkened hall, stood and ran. He found a side door which led outside and, once free of the house, tried to take stock of where he was. He spotted Alex and Alan, highlighted by the moon, running like the devil was after them. Mouth agape, Blair realized they'd been inside, had heard everything and instead of helping, had run away - were even now running as fast as their legs could run. What if the man inside _had_ been bad? They would have left him there; left him to that man. He felt the tears then, and he let them come. He *was* a baby. Just a baby. And a fool.

He looked over his shoulder at the house and wondered about the teen who'd come to his rescue. He should have stayed, but it was too embarrassing and wasn't he just a baby? Shoving his hands in his pockets, he let the tears roll down his cheeks, hatred for Cascade and Alan and Alex burning inside. He'd wanted brothers so bad...wanted a home. He turned the hatred toward himself as he realized with Alan and Alex gone, he had no idea how to get back home.

 __________________________________________________________________________________

**October 31, 1999 - 7:00pm - Cascade, Washington**

It was a perfect Halloween. Cold, windy, and with a full moon casting long, dark scary shadows into every corner of every street. It was a perfect night for Trick-or-Treating.

The thirty-year-old Blair Sandburg sat in his car, stuck in traffic, on Marchand Avenue. He didn't mind too much as he was busy singing along with Bobby *Boris* Pickett; singing the best Halloween song ever. Blair's fingers tapped lightly on the steering wheel, eyes idly moving about, looking at the people in other cars, noting those who were already costumed, smiling at some, looking askance at others. He moved his Volvo up a few more inches, wondering what the hold up was and if he should call Jim, tell him he was running late.

Glancing to his right, he drew in a sharp breath as he caught sight of the old Marchand Mansion.  It still stood, untouched after all these years. The only sign of time was the tall wire fence around the house and grounds; a fence with razor wire at the top. 

A memory filtered back to Blair, an odd memory, clothed in fog. He tried to move through it...saw himself, the eight-year-old Blair, standing at the front door....

The chirping of his cellphone brought him back to the present. He fumbled, grabbed it, and almost yelled into it, "Sandburg!"

_"You'll not leave, boy. You'll not leave this house ever...."_

 There was a click and Blair was listening to a dial tone.

_"You'll not leave, boy. You'll never leave this house."_

The words meant nothing to Blair, as he looked at the now silent phone in his hand. Frowning, he wondered if this were some newfangled Halloween practical joke, perpetrated on him by Rafe and the others. At that moment, two things happened simultaneously; traffic jumped forward a whopping foot and his phone rang again.

"Sandburg," he responded, in a careful and subdued voice.

_"Where the hell are you, Chief?"_

"I'm stuck in traffic on Marchand, but don't worry, I picked up my costume and can be ready in a flash. Besides, you know these parties never really get going until after eight - and we wouldn't want to be first, would we?" He didn't wait for an answer before asking, "Did you pick up your costume? And can you tell me why the Marchand Mansion is still here? Why they haven't torn it down after all these years? And did you ever find out what Simon's costume is--"

_"Shit, Sandburg, what's got you so wound up and how do I turn you off?"_

"Uh, sorry. I mean, I'm just excited about tonight, about being invited and all. It hasn't exactly been easy, and I figured we'd be slighted, you know? And maybe I shouldn't go after all--"

_"Sandburg, give it a rest! Don't you know by now the gang wouldn't go without you? Capice?"_

"Right. Understood. So. Did you?"

_"Did I...what?"_

"Find out Simon's costume?"

_"What, you think I'm clairvoyant or something? Can see through walls and Halloween garment bags--"_

"Hear conversations miles away, X-ray vision, faster than a speeding bullet," Blair finished for him before asking again, "So, did you?"

_"Yeah, he's going as Darth Vader. Satisfied?"_

"What's so fucking secretive about that?"

_"Watch your language, young man. And how the fuck should I know? And speaking of costumes, what's yours?"_

"Ha! Wouldn't you like to know!".

_"Yes, I would - and has traffic moved yet?"_

"Two more feet. Got any suggestions?"

_"You past Vaughn yet?"_

"No, coming up, maybe another foot or so."

_"Turn right and cut over to Fifteenth, then--"_

"Got it, then over to Palmer and _voila_!"

_"Shake your booty, Chief and get home, pronto."_

"Booty? Did you just say, *Shake your booty*?"

_"Got a problem with that, Chief?"_

" **OhMyGod**! You did it, you got the  Saturday Night Fever outfit, didn't you? You're going as John Travolta, right?"

_"No, you jerk, I'm going as Tony Manero. So there!"_

"The white suit?"

_"Do I need to dignify that with an answer? Just get home."_

"Turning right on Vaughn as we speak, and hanging up, you wild thing, you."

He clicked off the phone and made his right, which put him on an empty street. From then on, he made excellent time. Twenty minutes after his conversation with Jim, he was pulling into his parking space on Prospect, grabbing up the bag that held his costume and running up the three flights of stairs to his home. He pushed the door open and nearly toppled over at the sight that greeted him.

"Blair, honey!"

His mother, dressed as somebody's fairy godmother, wand and all, was floating toward him, arms outstretched.

"Mom, when did you get in? And why didn't you call? And...." His words were lost as he was smothered in gauze, satin and Obsession.

"Oh, sweetheart, I've missed you, and look who's here." She relinquished her son and turned him toward the couch where Abraham Lincoln sat next to Tony Manero.

"Blair, it's so good to see you again, after all these years." Lincoln stood up, walked over to the fairy godmother, wrapped an arm around her slender waist and put out a hand toward Blair, who blinked a couple of times before looking over to Jim for help. All he got was a helpless shrug for his efforts, so he turned back to Naomi, who must have realized her son had no clue as to Abraham Lincoln's real identity.

"Honey, you remember Auggie," she said helpfully.

When Blair's mouth dropped open, 'Auggie' gave out with a booming laugh, which left Jim wondering when he was going to be let in on the joke.

Slowly Blair raised his hand to meet Lincoln's and they shook, but Blair's stunned expression remained intact.

"You do remember me, don't you, Blair?"

"Yes, yes, of course. You and Mom, you almost, I mean, you nearly--"

"We nearly got married, honey. You can say it."

Blair looked at his mother and cocked his head before answering, "Married. You almost got married."

August Winters took Naomi's left hand and held it up for inspection. A huge diamond ring on her finger glittered in the light.

"We're trying again, sweetie," Naomi said as she waved her hand at him. "We're engaged, Blair, and the wedding is next month - just before Thanksgiving. We're going to be married here, in Cascade, at the North Street Calvary Church." She paused, then asked hopefully, "You're happy for me, aren't you? For us?"

What could a good son say? So Blair said it. "Of course, very happy. Do I get to give the bride away?"

Jim wasn't a Sentinel for nothing, and he hadn't been living with Blair without learning a few things about him. Like now. The expression on his face telegraphed more than a novel. And his tone, when answering his mother? To Jim's finely tuned ear, it said Blair wasn't happy at all, and something was very wrong. He moved to his lover's side, put his arm around Blair's waist, ensuring his message would be clear to Naomi. Based on her expression - it was.

"Chief, you'd better get dressed, and don't worry, I'll keep them company." Giving Blair a comforting squeeze, he then added, "It seems we're all going to the same party. The Mayor of Cascade is very popular this year." Then with a little pat, he added, "Go."

Proof of Blair's discomfiture was in finding himself doing just as Jim asked. He mumbled a few words, excused himself even as he picked up his costume bagthe bag from the floor where he'd dropped it upon seeing his mother.

___________________________________________________________________________________

"Well, that went over well, not," Naomi said as she looked at the spot her son had been a moment ago.

Winters guided her back to the couch, letting her get comfortable in her voluminous gown, before joining her. "It was to be expected, sweetheart. We ended it on rather, well, on bad terms. He surely remembers that. The loud fights, the yelling. And I've no doubt he remembers how I chose my sons over you."

"You had no choice. I'll tell him that. He'll understand."

Jim suddenly found himself in never-never land, the helpless victim, the fifth wheel. He let his body slink back, until his hand landed on the knob of the french doors, that now led to their exercise room. As Naomi and August continued to talk - as if he didn't exist - he turned the knob and stepped backward, and into the room. Closing the door, he whispered, "Chief, are you okay?"

Blair was seated on the exercise bike, staring straight ahead, unseeing. He'd taken his shirt off and it was now hanging from the handlebars.

Jim knew instinctively that Blair was not in the present. He knelt down and took one cold hand. "Blair? Is this your version of a guide zone-out? Because if it is, I don't have a clue how to bring you back."

"You'll never leave, boy. you'll never leave this house," Blair whispered so low, only Jim could have heard him. And hearing them left him feeling as though he'd just been hit with a sledgehammer. The words, eerily familiar...spoken by a man twenty-two years ago...and to a boy he'd been holding up by a navy blue sweatshirt.

In spite of suddenly feeling very cold, Jim nevertheless stayed focused on Blair. "Chief, look at me. Come on, look at me now."

Blair turned his head and stared at Jim, but the older man knew he wasn't really seeing him. He started to speak again, but Blair beat him to it. In a low, cold and distant voice, he said, "The Marchand Mansion, I passed it tonight, and there was a memory, but I couldn't pin it down. Then I got a phone call just before yours. A man's voice...and he said, _'You'll never leave, boy. You'll never leave this house.'_ It didn't mean anything then, I just thought it was a practical joke, but now...." His voice trailed off.

"And now?" Jim encouraged.

"Alex and Alan." Blair said the names as if they should mean something, but at Jim's quizzical look, he added, "Twins. Auggie's sons. Older than me. Auggie made them take me everywhere with them. They hated it and they hated me. Then, on Halloween, they said I could join their club if I did one brave thing, to prove I was worthy."

At the words, Jim's own memory of a Halloween so many years ago - returned. He could see the little boy he'd rushed into the mansion to save, the short curly hair, lighter than now, and the frightened blue eyes, big and round with fright. "Good God, it was you. It was _you_ , Blair. You were the little boy. You disappeared and I couldn't find you."

Blair's eyes widened at Jim's words. "You? You were the teenager who rushed in? Bowled us all over?"

"Yeah, Chief, me. I was the big, brave teen, rushing in to save the boy from the big, bad monster, who turned out to be a good friend of Dad's."

Eyes locked on Jim's, Blair's expression moved from "absent" to the very here and now and, as Jim watched the *scholar* took over.  "Wait, you were there, in that house, with me. With - _me_. It's karmic, and like, so cool. You were protecting me before you even knew me. This is so out there."

Jim shook his head in amazement. One minute, he was the poster boy for Psychotics Anonymous and now he was Blair the Scientist.  "Look, it's after seven-thirty, and we have a party to attend. You think we can put this," he made quote marks in the air, "'karmic' discussion on hold until later?"

"Yeah, man, sure. Later." Then he added, "I can't believe this."

"I can. Nothing about the two of us ever surprises me." He jerked a thumb toward the doors. "I'm going out to keep our company...company, so get dressed and let's party."

He stood up, dropped a quick kiss on Blair's lips, even though Blair was already mumbling. Smiling, and with a last glance at his love, he went out into the lion's den.

___________________________________________________________________________________

"He'll come around. I know Blair, he's generous and wants nothing more than my happiness."

Jim walked in on the conversation as if he'd never been gone. Twilight Zone time, and how appropriate for Halloween.

Naomi glanced up as Jim came around the corner of the couch and sat down in the chair opposite. As of he'd been there all along, she asked,  "You agree with me, don't you, Jim?"

He wisely just nodded and smiled.

"See, honey? Jim knows Blair, and he knows that Blair will be just fine with this news."

"I wish I could be so certain. Alex and Alan are being their usual prick selves, so don't count on them at the wedding. On the other hand, there's every possibility they'll be at the party tonight. You think you can handle them?"

For the first time since arriving, Naomi appeared flustered, which left Jim in awe. Naomi, flustered? Hell, even after destroying her son's life, she'd been so damn calm.

"You didn't say anything earlier, Auggie. How long have you known they'd be there?"

"Just a few minutes before I got home. Patty called, said they were looking forward to seeing me tonight. And no, I didn't tell her; you asked me not to, and I didn't. But the boys will know."

"Fuck."

Okay, that was new one. Naomi, using a four letter word other than love. And Blair had missed it. But Jim hadn't - and he'd remember it - and when things settled down, would remind. He smiled at himself.

Naomi seemed to collect herself, glanced quickly over to Jim, and blushed when he smiled wickedly. "Don't worry, Naomi, I won't tell Blair that his mother can cuss with the best of them...until I find the right moment."

Auggie patted her hand even as he favored Jim with a quick wink.

With a look toward the French doors, Naomi said, "Jim, maybe Auggie and I should go on ahead? Leave you two to follow? Blair and I can talk tomorrow and tonight will be left for fun, all right?"

"That's a good idea, Naomi. We'll meet you there."

She and Auggie got to their feet, but before leaving, Naomi gave Jim a stern look and added, "Don't think for a minute I missed your 'message' to me. You and I have some talking to do, young man." She wagged her finger at him before kissing him on the cheek and whispering, "I'm so glad for both of you. Keep him safe and happy." With that, they were gone in a whirl of fantasy and history.

Jim shut the door, grateful for the quiet of his home with Blair.  He was just getting his second wind when the French doors opened and Blair stepped out. Suddenly getting a second wind became vital for without it, he'd never have been able to breathe out, "My God...."

"Yes, I am. But at the moment, I'm in disguise, as an Indian chief," Blair said, grinning.

Jim found his eyes watering, his mouth salivating and his cock hardening. Blair was gorgeous any day of the week, but right now he was downright sexy and edible. His 'costume' was a loincloth and, below that, leather leggings, which left his thighs bare and appeared to be hooked to the thin string that held the thin cloth around his hips. His chest was bare if you didn't count the native necklaces around his neck. He'd taken a hunk of hair on each side of his face and braided it with thin strips of leather. The right braid also had a long, eagle feather dangling from it. And if that weren't enough, he'd painted his face. Two slashes of red on his right cheek, two slashes of blue on the left one, and a yellow moon just above the blue lines. He looked dangerous, fierce, awesome...and erotic as hell.

"What? What's wrong?"

All Jim could do was blink. Over and over again.

"Well, come on, let's get going."

Jim continued to blink and added mouth movement.

"Jim? You zoning?"

Jim nodded.

"No you're not, or you couldn't nod. I take it you like my costume?"

Jim nodded, and wet his lips.

"Are we going to be even later to the party?"

Jim nodded and wet his lips again.

"Well, good thing this outfit requires no zipper, I don't even have to undress. Just lift up the flap, see?"

Jim saw, nodded, wet his lips and - pounced.

It wasn't easy making love and not getting bodily fluids on a leather loincloths or white slacks. But they did it.

___________________________________________________________________________________

As Chief Blair and Tony Manero entered the Mayor's Annual Charity Halloween Ball, they were immediately surrounded by several members of Major Crime. Megan was Morticia Addams, and Rafe, the clever man, was Gomez. Henri Brown had done his costume-shopping late and was stuck with Barney, as in the big purple Barney, not Barney Fife. Joel Taggart, the master of understatement, was all in brown except for a gold cummerbund and Blair immediately figured out that he was one of Simon's cigars. But Simon's Darth Vader was nowhere in sight.

"My god, Sandy, I can't believe Jim let you out in that outfit."

Blair gave Megan the evil eye and tweaked a long hunk of black wig, "Why shouldn't he? Let me out, that is?"

"Oh, nothing, forget I said anything. Just spouting." But she promptly mumbled, "If you were mine, I wouldn't let you out..." Jim leaned forward and whispered, "But he isn't, is he?" Megan had the grace to blush before saying quickly, "So, Rafe, care to dance? NOW?" Rafe, happy as a clam, whisked his Morticia onto the dance floor, completely unaware of her now very red face.

"Jim, you are so bad."

"Yep. Now let's grab some food before we go around and bother some people."

Laughing, they made their way to the buffet table. As they loaded their plates, a voice from behind Blair spoke up, "Jim, my boy, how are you?" and at the sound, Blair's fingers went numb, his plate slipping from his hand.

****** 

Jim turned back from the older man who'd addressed him, to his partner. "Chief?"

Blair Sandburg, his face pale, eyes burning with fever, turned and faced the man. His voice, when he spoke, was so low, so *far away*, that Jim felt the hair on the back of his arms rise, and his heart started to hammer, and he was certain the whole party could hear it. "the boy will leave the house, but not until he holds the truth up to the light of day."

Caleb Marchand blanched, stepped back and spoke one word, "Emily."

Blair's eyes rolled back in his head, and he dropped like a stone.

oooooooooohhhhhhhhaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh

 

<><><><><><><>>>>>>

 

| 

Voices. So he concentrated.

"He had too much to drink. Figures. Knew he'd grow up to be an alcoholic."

"Shut up, Alex."

Maybe he wouldn't concentrate, maybe he'd just keep floating.

"Blair? Honey? Can you hear me?"

"Come on, buddy, let me see those blues."

Concentration was good. *That* voice was good. He opened one *blue* and saw an angel. He tilted his head, closed the one, opened the other and... Glenda? The Good Witch?

"There's no place like home," he murmured.

"Wrong story, sweetie. Think Cinderella."

He opened both eyes and asked the obvious, "What happened?"

"The prince tripped you. Can you stand, honey?"

"Aren't I? Standing, I mean?"

His mother shook her head, "No, you're currently sprawled on the floor, amidst crab puffs, olives and caviar toast points."

"My butt hurts."

"Um, that would be the prince also."

"Naomi", Jim warned.

Blair turned his head to follow the favorite voice and was delighted to see Jim's face, swimming right next to his. "Hey, man, how ya doin?"

"Me? *I'm* fine, Sandburg, and better still if you'd stand up."

"Oh, okay. Standing. That's where your feet are flat on the ground?"

"You got it, Chief Darwin. Care to give it a try?"

"For you....anything. Besides, I've been standing for years. Standing still, standing up, standoffish, standing at attention, standing in line, standing behind you, standing on principle, standing pat, standing around," and he would have continued indefinitely, except two strong arms were sliding around him and lifting, and his feet were flat, and he just kind of leaned back, and smiled up at Jim, and said, "See?"

"I'm so impressed."

Now that he was *standing* he could go back to focusing, and immediately wished he hadn't. He already felt rotten, but looking at the sea of weird faces around him--and the addition of what looked like Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum--he swayed and Jim's arm tightened.

"Come on, let's get you out the limelight and try to figure out what happened." Jim began to lead him toward a door next to the bandstand, but unfortunately, the Addams family was following, along with Abe Lincoln, his mother and the Tweedles. And someone who looked like maybe, Rasputin?

"Uh, Jim? We're being followed. And it's scary. Do I know all these people?"

"You do." Jim got the door opened, and hustled Blair inside, and it turned out to be a men's bathroom, with a couch against a far wall. Jim quickly got him down and a man in a white coat was handing him a wet cloth, which Jim gently draped across Blair's forehead.

"White coat. The man is wearing a white coat. Does he have a net too? For me?"

"No, Sandburg. He's the nice attendant, you know, fancy hotel, fancy ballroom, fancy ball, fancy--"

"Bathrooms. Whew, I really thought I was on my way to the nut house."

"Don't be silly, dear. You've been living in one for over three years... where else could you be taken?"

"Gee, funny, Naomi. You're a crack up here."

"Sorry, Jim. Just worried."

Everyone started talking at once then, but Blair just tried to zone them all out, and he noticed one man, the guy dressed as Rasputin, and he was watching *him*, and Blair thought he should know the man... and a name came to him, Marchand... and then - Marchand Mansion, and then - Emily.

Auggie decided to take matters into his own hands and began shooing everyone out, starting with his own sons, except Jim stood then, mouth open, as a tall, blonde woman, who'd come in with either Tweedle Dee or Dum, stepped forward and said his name.

"Jim? Jimmy Ellison?"

"Jen? Jennifer Reynolds?"

The tall, willowy blonde nodded and then added, "It's Winters now. I'm Jennifer Winters. Alex is my husband which means I'm soon to be," and she made a motion at the still prone Sandburg, "his step-sister-in-law?"

Hasty introductions were done, as Auggie sheepishly introduced his sons to Jim, Megan, Rafe, Henri and Joel, and Jim introduced Caleb Marchand. Blair just lay there, floating again, completely unaware, watching the circle of people who now stood a few feet away from him, and he was glad Rasputin wasn't looking at him anymore, because he needed to leave.

Blair sat up, swung his legs over the edge of the couch, stood uneasily, and then once he had his balance, he simply walked out.

 

O0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Blair walked through the ballroom, oblivious of the people, of the stares, or of a large dark shape that tried to stop him.

"Sandburg? Hey, Sandburg, where're you going?" But Blair just kept walking, and Darth Vader, aka, Simon Banks was momentarily torn between going after Sandburg, or going to get Jim. He opted for Jim.

Once outside, Blair kept going, walking north, and he should have been freezing, but he wasn't, he didn't even notice the cold. Or the rain. He just kept walking.

 

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Simon burst through the door of the restroom, and slid to a shocked stop. The room was full, with everyone talking, but they seemed to be talking nonsense, and nobody seemed to notice that Sandburg was gone.

"ELLISON!"

The man in question whirled at the yell, seemed to blink, gave a quick glance to the couch and yelled, "SANDBURG!"

"He's gone, Jim. He just *walked out*, just like that. What the hell were you all doing? Needlepoint?"

Simon was nearly trampled in the onslaught.

Everyone pushed and shoved their way out of the bathroom, with Jim leading the way. As they stormed through the door, no one noticed that one of them was missing - Rasputin.

Jim ran through the dancers, out into the lobby and out the front doors of the hotel, everyone following, talking, asking, hands waving. No one in the ballroom seemed to think it was at all unusual for the people of Major Crimes to act in such a fashion, they just shrugged and kept on dancing and eating, with the Mayor and the Police Commissioner smiling and nodding their heads knowingly.

Once outside, Jim came to a stop, cocked his head and listened. The whole gang came to a shuddering halt, just missing Jim. They waited.

Jim started to run.

The gang followed. And it wasn't easy. Some were in heels and it was raining.

 

o0o0o0o0o0o0o0<<^>>o0o0o0o0o0o<<^>>o0o

Blair stood in front of the chain link fence and looked up at the Marchand Mansion. He needed to get inside. He didn't know why, just that he did. He looked to his right, then his left and saw it. A chink in the fence. He moved left and when he got to the chink, he pushed and it gave just enough to allow him to slip through.

The house, the grounds, the full moon, the black shapes, the perfect Halloween picture. But Blair didn't notice any of it. Because to him, the house was well lit, the garden well maintained, and the year was 1967.

He walked up to the front door, smiling at the carved and lit pumpkins on the porch, at the black wreath that hung from the door, and at the fake spider webs that graced the dark corners. He didn't knock or ring, he just opened the door and stepped inside.

 

o0o0o0o0o<<^>>o0o0o0o0oo0<<^>>o0o0o0o0

Caleb Marchand had no difficulty keeping Sandburg in sight. The young man was totally oblivious to being followed. And Marchand *did* have to follow, he had to know what Sandburg had meant when he, no, when *Emily* had said, "The boy will leave the house, but not until he has held the truth up to the light of day." He had to know.

 

o0o0o0o<<^>>o0o0o0o0o<<^>>o0o0o0o0o0o

Jim had to stop twice, as the sounds of thunder had now been added to the normal city sounds. But each time, he concentrated, and each time he found that heartbeat again. Then he'd start running, and the others would follow.

 

o0o0o0o<<^>>o0o0o0o0o<<^>>o0o0o0o0o0o0

The foyer was decorated for Halloween, with pumpkins on the floor, and gathered around a table in the middle. In the corner, stood a papiermache witch, surrounded by ghosts, and on the table sat a cardboard Frankenstein, legs hanging over the edge, and behind him, Dracula perched, looking ready to drink blood.

The whole house was alive and festive and Blair felt immediately comfortable. Until he heard the yelling. The voices seemed to be coming from the room to his right, so he turned and walked in.

Two men stood, almost nose to nose, one dressed for Halloween, dressed to look like a zombie, the other in a business suit. It was the suit who was yelling.

"GOD DAMMIT, I'M YOUR BROTHER!"

"And you stole from *our* company. My God, Caleb, you've embezzled over a million dollars. The company is broke. What am I supposed to do? Roll over and try to slough it off as bad investments?"

The man called Emmett walked away from his brother and over to the fireplace, where he took a poker and flicked it into the wood, sending up new sparks.

"You should be the one to go to the board, Caleb. Confess what you've done. The family will stick by you. We'll manage, we'll find a way, help pay back the money. But you must tell the truth."

"It's so easy for you, isn't it? You've always had it all... the fame, the beautiful wife, the boys, everything. This will end my life, Emmett, end it. Do you understand?"

Emmett turned, shock written over his handsome face. "Is this what it's all about? Me? Some rivalry?"

"You and I had the same life, Caleb. Went to the same schools, had the same opportunities, the same struggles. How can you think this is easy for me? Or is this about Emily? Because she chose me? Is that it?"

"YOU GODDAMNED SELF-RIGHTEOUS MAN! SO PERFECT, SO GOOD. WELL NOT THIS TIME. IF I GO TO THE BOARD, IT WILL BE TO TELL THEM YOU DID THIS. YOU STOLE THE MONEY!"

"Caleb! They won't believe you, you know that."

Caleb moved toward his brother, slowly, menacingly, until he stood close enough to strike out, which he did. Hard. Emmett Marchand fell to the floor.

"Oh, yes, little brother, they *will* believe me." And Caleb Marchand pulled a gun from his pocket, knelt down next to his brother, lifted one limp hand, wrapped the fingers around the handle, placed the muzzle against one temple, put his own finger over Emmett's and pulled the trigger.

Blair tried to yell, to move, to stop it, but he couldn't. He was frozen in quicksand, his throat tight and his eyes wide.

Laughter.

The front door opening, and Blair turned, almost against his will, and saw a lovely woman enter, followed by two teenaged boys, maybe fifteen and sixteen. They were laughing, their arms full of candy.

Caleb didn't hear them, he was transfixed by the blood, and his hand, still wrapped around his brother's.

Emily Marchand walked, still laughing, into the livingroom, and she seemed to walk *through* Blair, who reached out to stop her, to warn, but the stricken faces of her sons caused her to turn.

"Oh, dear God."

Caleb whirled around at the voice, the gun coming with him.

Emily dropped the packages onto the floor and started to run to her husband, and Caleb, without even thinking, raised the gun and fired.

The lights went out, cold seemed to encompass Blair, the house was damp, musty, old.

He was back in 1999.

He shook his head, and realized that he was crying. And that he was grateful he'd been brought back before he had to witness the death of those boys. He put a hand to his face, felt the moisture, wiped, and gazed up at the portrait on the wall above the fireplace.

Emily Marchand. Wife, mother. Aged 36 when she was murdered by her brother-in-law. She and the boys had been shopping for Halloween candy, before the boys would be going out to their own parties. Shopping. Candy.

"You won't leave here alive."

The voice. The man, years ago. The voice on the phone earlier, and the voice at the party tonight. Blair slowly turned to face Caleb Marchand.

"Yes, I will. And I'll leave with the truth. *YOU* killed them. In cold blood. Your own family. Your brother, your sister-in-law and your nephews."

Caleb stepped in closer and hissed, "No proof. None. People going to believe *you*?"

"Proof here in the house, right? Somewhere? That's why you won't let it be torn down? Maybe?"

Blair looked around. Mind speculating. "A boy slips in, over twenty years ago. He could find something. So you follow him, and he walks in here...," Blair moves away, walks to the fireplace. "Maybe in this room? The proof?"

"Maybe Emmett confronted you with the proof? Waved in front of your face? And after the killings, you hid it? But you could have burned it--so why didn't you?"

Caleb's eyes narrowed, and he was suddenly frightened. How did this man know?

And Blair just kept on thinking - out loud, mind whirling.  "Because you hated him, didn't you? Hated your brother? And you were more clever, you managed to steal all that money, and you wouldn't want to destroy your accomplishment. And you wouldn't want this house torn down, because it's a monument, isn't it? To how you beat him, beat your own brother.

"I'll bet you drive by here every day, and chortle. And gloat. But no more. It's over and Emmett's name will be cleared."

Caleb had no gun this time, no weapon of any kind, but he had his hands. He advanced on Sandburg, arms outstretched, and Blair just stood there, letting him come, and smiling.

The front door was shoved open, and Jim ran in, followed closely by everyone else and, just like twenty-two years ago, Jim tackled Caleb Marchand.

His body hit Marchand's like a two ton truck and both bodies were thrown backward and into Blair, who was, once again, tossed against the broken down chair.

Blair was on hands and knees, head shaking, as Jim and Marchand turned and twisted and, just like the party, everyone was talking at once.

"What the hell?" "Who is that?"  "MYGOD, that's Caleb Marchand!" "Somebody help him!"  "Blair, honey?"

"ELLISON, WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?"

It was Simon Banks who finally ended it. His loud demand got Jim's attention, so the detective gave Marchand a quick jab to the jaw, and stood, brushing off his white slacks.

Blair got shakily to his feet, suddenly cold, wet, tired and completely baffled.

Simon took immediate charge.  "EVERYBODY, QUIET! NOW!"

"Well, just who does he think he is?" Alex whispered to Alan.

Simon whirled and hissed out of his Darth Vader helmet, "I'm Captain Simon Banks, that's who. You gotta a problem with that?"

Two Tweedle heads shook in the negative.

"Good. Now listen up people. Rafe, get a squad car down here, pronto. Megan, cuff that bastard. H, don't move, and you stink. Is that costume made out of wool? Joel, take off your jacket and give it to Sandburg, he's freezing. And Sandburg, tell us what the fuck is going on."

Naomi and Auggie automatically moved to surround Blair, as if he needed more protection, but Jim beat them. As Joel wrapped his brown coat around Blair, Jim wrapped him in his arms.

"Hey, man, not here, not in front of everybody."

"This is family, Chief. Shut up and enjoy."

"Don't tell him to shut up, he has some explaining to do." Simon pushed.

"Here that, Lucy? You've got some 'splaining to do. So, 'splain."

"Well, Caleb stole a million dollars from their company, and Emmett found out and and confronted him on Halloween, and Caleb hit Emmett and he fell, right here," Blair pointed to the spot where Emmett's body had fallen, "and then he took a gun and put it in Emmett's hand and put the gun to Emmett's temple and pulled the trigger, and Emily and the boys came in and saw and he shot them too, and the proof is here, somewhere, and he didn't want the house torn down, because he's a sick bastard and he hated Emmett."

"Uh, that's about it. I don't think I left anything out. Oh, except, he probably would have killed me, all those years ago. Maybe because he was afraid I'd find something, but more likely he wanted to use a death to keep people away."

"Gee, Chief, is that all?"

Blair thought for a moment, face crinkled in consternation, then he nodded and answered, "Yep, that's all. Oh, no it isn't--the proof. You'll need the proof." And he pulled out of Jim's embrace, albeit reluctantly, and moved to the center of the room. Everyone stilled, eyes glued to him.

Megan had Marchand up, cuffed, but like the others, she waited, and watched. And Marchand shook, with rage and fear.

Blair pivoted. Slowly. Eyes taking in every corner of the moonlit, flashlight illuminated room, every possible hiding place. At least, that was what he appeared to be doing. In actuality, he was watching Caleb Marchand. Under cover, but watching. As his body turned to the fireplace, Marchand's eye twitched, but as he looked down at the hearth, nothing. So he looked up... at Emily. And Marchand blanched.

"Jim, check Emily's portrait. Maybe behind it?"

Jim didn't question, he just moved forward, waved Simon over to the other side, and both men carefully lifted. And Marchand went wild. He pushed with all his strength and Megan flew back, into Auggie's ready arms. Then Marchand, who was cuffed in front, threw his arms over the nearest person to him, namely, Naomi, and pulled her into his chest, arms tightening around her neck.

"EVERYONE BACK, DON'T TRY TO STOP ME OR SHE WILL DIE!"

It seemed silly to point out that everyone was already *back*, so Blair took a step forward, and speaking in low, soothing tones, using his best *guide* voice, he said, "You can't leave, Caleb. She won't let you. Don't you know that? She's controlled this for a very long time. She brought me here, she made sure I *saw* almost everything. I was here, Caleb, right here in this room when you shot your brother. And his family," as Blair talked, he moved. And kept moving, slowly, easily, "She's hardly going to let go now. Let *you* go."

"SHE'S DEAD. THEY'RE ALL DEAD. NO ONE CAN STOP ME. SO BACK OFF, OR SHE DIES!"

"Look behind you, Caleb." Blair spoke quietly, but firmly.

"You think that will work?", he hissed. "There is no one there, now shut the fuck up."

He should have looked. Everyone else did. And everyone else saw the shifting shape, the long, slender, white, shifting shape. Tendrils of white seemed to reach out, to enfold Caleb Marchand, and the room seemed to lighten, and the shape touched Caleb's neck, wrapped around him, and he screamed, and Naomi slid out from under his arms and into her son's.

Caleb continued to scream, even as the whiteness faded away, and the room darkened once more. Then Marchand *stopped* screaming and dropped to the floor.

Megan was the first to move. She knelt beside him, checked his neck and looked up at Blair, stunned. "He's _dead_."

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Lights, sirens, men and women moving silently, a camera crew filming. Barney the dinosaur explaining to several officers. A huge, human cigar talking to the coroner. Morticia Addams being hugged by Gomez. Glenda, the Good Witch being hugged by Abraham Lincoln and, alone and forgotten, Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum, twiddling their fingers, with spouses/dates tapping impatient heels.

And on the front porch stoop, seated with head in hands, sat an indian, being comforted by Tony Manero.

"You want to talk about it, yet?"

The curly haired indian shook his head.

"Did you really see...."

The curly haired indian nodded.

"And she really did....."

The curly haired indian nodded again.

"And he really would have...all those years...."

The curly haired indian looked up, frowning.

"Damn. I just knew it. The only thing I really had to hold over you, and it's gone."

Tony Manero placed a hand on the indian's forehead. "Nope, you're not running a fever."

"I'm talking about the Blessed Protector crap. I've always prided myself on the fact that no matter what else happened, I *knew* that I had really saved *your* life first. See?"

Tony Manero shook his head.

"The friggin garbage truck. Only now, it seems you really did save my sorry ass first. Damn. I mean, it's not like I have a great deal going for me here, you know? I *needed* that."

"Weeelll, we could go back in time, take a "do-over", and I could *not* save you. But that would be rather pointless, cause then, you wouldn't be around to save me first, if you get my meaning, doofus." And with that, Tony Manero swatted the back of the indian's head.

"Still...."

"Still, you do have a great deal going for you, like your ass, and your mouth, and your... ass... oh, and me. You've got me going for you."

"Like a ton of bricks."

"Yep. Wanna go home and shore up some bricks?"

Blair looked over to the sidewalk, where the Tweedles were standing, and shook his head. "I have some unfinished business that I'd like to take care of first. Do you mind?"

Jim followed Blair's line of sight, and nodded sagely. "No, not a bit. Can I help?"

"Oh, yeah."

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---  
  
The squad cars, coroner's wagon, news media and lookie-loos were gone and quiet reigned once again. There was only a slight drizzle now to mar what was left of Halloween. Cars had been retrieved, and now waited for owners.

Jim had briefly conferenced with the gang from Major Crimes before they all took their leaves with waves and yelled good byes to Blair.

Jim was standing next to Auggie and Naomi, talking quietly, heads occasionally turning toward Blair and nodding. Blair remained where he was, sitting on the stoop, trying to figure things out, while at the same time - plotting.

"Hey, Sandburg, long time no see."

He looked up to see Tweedle Dee standing in front of him, foot resting on the top step.

"Alex, isn't it? Or is it Alan?"

"Alex. Busy night. How did I know your life would be anything but normal?"

"Probably the same way I knew yours would be boring."

Brown eyes narrowed before Alex spoke again, "Seems we can't stay away from this place, huh? Still spooks you, doesn't it?"

Blair was saved from answering by the appearance of Jim, Naomi and Auggie. Jim stepped behind Blair and rested one hand lightly on his shoulder.

"Chief, your mother and Auggie are going to join us for dinner tomorrow night. How does that sound?"

"Great."

Auggie walked up to his son, and added, "And so are you, Alex and your brother as well. We're all about to become a family, and this is a perfect opportunity to get to know one another again." He turned to Blair and asked, "What time would be good, and can we bring anything?"

"I'm easy. How about seven? That'll give us time after work. And just bring yourselves."

A few mumbled comments from the Dum and Dee, a jovial good-bye from Auggie and Naomi, and a sudden kiss on the cheek to Jim from Jennifer, and Blair and Jim were alone.

"I may have to kill her."

"Nah, not worth it. Long ago and far away."

Jim reached out and gave Blair a hand up, and they stood, looking up at the house.

"You sure you want to do this tomorrow? Especially after tonight?"

"I'm positive. And what was so strange about tonight? Seemed perfectly normal to me, for us, that is."

"You've got a point there, Chief. But what exactly did happen? I'm getting old and your life seems to be passing me by."

Blair wrapped one arm around Jim's waist and they started walking to their car.

"Well, you see, it was a dark and stormy night, and a handsome anthropologist cum thwarted detective was minding his own business when all of a sudden...."

o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

"Are you sure this is going to work? I mean, I just don't see those two men falling for this."

Jim was standing across the kitchen island as his love drained pasta. Blair turned on the faucet, rinsed out the pot, and plopped the pasta down onto a plate.

"Jim, of course they wouldn't fall for anything, but I have do have an ace up my sleeve. You."

"Hey, I know I'm cute as hell, and a Sentinel, but how exactly does that help you tonight?"

Blair scooped the pasta into his homemade sauce, then covered it, to simmer, before turning back to his Sentinel.

"Boy, you sure are dense today. See, it works like this......"

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The table was set, candles waiting. The wine was open and breathing on the counter, and the loft was filled with the aroma of simmering Pasta ala Sandburg and garlic bread. In the living room, seven adults sat uncomfortable, talking chit-chat.

"So, Chief, isn't dinner about ready?" Jim asked, surpressing his sense of desperation.

"Yeah, let's go eat, folks."

Everyone got up and drifted to the dinner table, where Jim poured wine, and Blair served.

The meal went - well, it went. Auggie was clearly disturbed at his sons lack of enthusiasm and Jennifer did nothing but flirt with Jim through the entire meal. Alex shot daggers, and Alan sniggered while his date, a hot brunette named Cindy, just looked bored. Naomi did her best, but every conversational gambit failed.

The meal finally ended and Jim went into his "script".

"So, Auggie, I understand from Naomi that you're into classic cars and trucks?"

Auggie was perched on the arm of the couch, his arm draped around Naomi's shoulder. He nodded happily, his own "script" well rehearsed. "Yes. I love classics, cherried out, why?"

"Maybe you'd like to go down and look at my '69 truck? And Jeff Smithson, a neighbor, has a cherried out 1965 Fiat Spyder."

Auggie stood and waved his arm, "Let's go!"

"Wait just one minute, you're not going without me. Boys? You interested?"

Alex and Alan looked at their future step-mother as if she were an alien creature with three heads. She smiled and said, "Well, I guess not. Come on Jim, lead the way."

The door closed behind them, leaving Blair to "entertain" his remaining guests. Alex spoke first. "So, you and the cop an item, Baby Blair?"

Blair had been starting to feel guilty about what they were planning. That guilt just died a quiet death. "Yes - Alexbaby."

Jennifer's eyes blazed as she said, "I don't believe it for a minute. Jim Ellison is not gay."

Blair turned and sweetly addressed her, "You're right, he's not."

She blinked rapidly, her mind trying to take in his words, combined with her husband's. "But if you and he are a couple... then that would make him gay, right?" She looked to Alex and then his brother for confirmation.

"Not at all. Both partners don't have to be gay, you know. *I'm* the gay one in this relationship."

She looked from one to another, and back again. Alex's jaw was twitching in anger, but Alan was trying very hard not to laugh outright and trying *not* to like his soon to be step-brother.

"Alex, honey, is that true?"

"Oh, for God's sake, shut up, Jen."

Blair got up and walked over to where Alex stood, behind the couch.

"You know, I owe you two, big time. I say it's time I collected."

"And what is that supposed to mean?"

"You took me to Marchand Mansion all those years ago, and you left me. I was eight years old, Alex. Eight years old. You should have been taking care of me. But I was responsible too, I knew what you were both doing, but I wanted desperately to fit in... so I went.

"Well, water under the bridge, right? But I wonder, if now, after all that's happened, if you and Alan could go back into that house, alone, tonight? Could you?"

Alex's eyes narrowed, then he smiled, "You're joking, right? Like that would be hard?"

"So, you're willing to do it? Go back? Now?"

Alan stepped up to his brother and took his arm, "Alex, don't be ridiculous. It's pointless now. Let it go."

But Alex was angry. He felt *bested* by this man, and he'd made a fool of his wife. Who was still flirting with Ellison.

"I'm willing. No big deal."

"Good, let's go. Jim and your Dad will be down there a while. We can go and come back before we're even missed. You game?"

Alex nodded and turned to his wife, "Jen, you stay here with Cindy. We'll be back in no time."

But Jennifer had other ideas. "Fuck you, Alex. This is asinine. You are not going back to that house. You hear me? And furthermore, we're leaving. I don't like it here. I don't like *him*." And she pointed to Blair, who just smiled benignly.

"You will stay here, and Alan and I will back."

"Speak for yourself, Alex. I'm not going back into that house and I'm not afraid to say it."

Alex whirled on his brother and hissed out, "We're twins, you have to come with me."

"Gee, Alex, with logic like that, how can I refuse. All right, I'll go. But I want my protest logged."

"Consider it logged, Alan." Blair answered.

o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

The three men stood outside the fence and looked at the empty house. Clouds obscured the moon, and a chilling November wind was stirring up leaves and howling through the trees.

"Well, go on, go inside."

"Alex, this is stupid. We've nothing to prove."

"Bro, shut up and follow me."

He pushed open the fence gate, and walked up to the door, Alan trailing behind him. Once up on the porch, Alex flicked on the flashlight, ripped at the yellow crime scene tape and pushed open the door. He stepped inside, closely followed by his brother.

Back on the sidewalk, Blair just waited. And if he had a slightly smug expression on his face? Who could blame him?

Once inside, Alex immediately turned to the livingroom, following the flashlight. He stepped over the threshold, and stood in the middle of the room, breathing harshly.

"Alex, how long are we supposed to stay here? And does it matter?"

"Fifteen minutes, and it matters to me. I won't let him get the best of me. Not that bastard."

Alan shook his head in disbelief. "Alex, he already *has*. The moment you agreed to this charade, he got the best of you. And to be truthful? He got the best of us twenty-two years ago. When we ran. When we left an eight year old boy to face God knows what."

"Oh, for crying out loud, we were kids. We didn't know any better."

"But now we do. And I knew then."

Alex was about to answer when an unearthly green glow seemed to come out of the wall from their left. It shimmered and brightened and moved toward the two brothers.

Alex stood rooted to the spot, but Alan was grinning, and admiring Blair's handiwork.

"This is so cool. How did he do that?" But before Alex could answer his brother, a disembodied voice seemed to surround them....

"Who are you to trespass? Leave now, or prepare to face the consequences."

Alex took an uncertain step back and Alan, who'd definitely decided to *like* his step brother, smiled hugely.

The green light seemed to spread out, to take the shape of a man, and he seemed to move toward Alex, who stepped back again, but the shape followed, and a hand seperated itself and lifted and pointed. Alan scratched his head and tried to figure out *how* Blair had gotten the green light to follow Alex.

"Leave now, do you hear me? You offend me. Now go, or stay forever."

Alex stumbled back, shot a desperate look at his brother, who smothered his smile and tried to look confused.

"Alan... let's go. Now."

"I don't know, bro. We made a bargain with Blair. Fifteen minutes and we've only been here five. You want to look bad in front of him?"

The green light now went deep purple, it's edges darkening, as if in anger. It moved toward Alex, hand outstretched.

"IDON'TGIVEASHITI'MLEAVINGNOW!"

And with those words, Alex bounded out of the house, running fast, and leaving his brother behind.

Alan turned to the purple light, made a motion as if doffing his hat and said, "Good job, Blair, very good. I think I'm going to like being your brother."

The purple light went green again, then seemed to bow, and ghostly laughter followed.

o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

As Alex ran down the steps and the walkway, he finally looked up and saw Blair standing just inside the fence, with his father and Naomi on each side.

He skidded to a halt.

"Damn."

He'd been thoroughly tricked. By a master. He glanced back and noted his brother, smiling, as he came out the front door.

"Damn, and double damn."

Auggie went forward and addressed his son, "Alex, you deserved it. Accept it."

Blair offered his hand. Alex took it. Alan came up and offered his, and he and Blair shook, both grinning from ear to ear.

"So, how did you do it?" Alan asked.

"Trade secret." And a Sentinel in your pocket, Blair added silently.

Auggie beamed down at his wife to be, then at his three sons. Life was good. Very good. And second chances were even better.

o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Blair stood on the curb, waiting for Jim. His mother, Auggie and the twins had left, with spouses and dates in tow, and now Blair was alone, waiting for Jim to unhook everything and pick him up. He glanced back at the house, and smiled. Emily should be happy now, and hopefully with her sons and husband? Their murder had been avenged, so surely she could finally rest.

The sound of the truck brought him back to the present.

"Hey, cute stuff, want a ride?" Jim said, as he leaned to his side from the driver's seat.

"Gee, I don't know. I'm dating this buff cop, and if he catches me, well...."

"Fuck the buff cop, hop in and I'll take you for a ride you won't soon forget."

Blair seemed to ponder, then jumped in.

They looked at each other, eyes brimming with love, smiles plastered on their faces.

"Busy Halloween. Busy day after Halloween. Ghosts, murderers, brothers, fathers..."Jim said.

"Just another typical day in the life of--", Blair added.

"Blair and James Ellison," Jim finished.

"James and Blair Sandburg," Blair corrected.

"Man, you are so picky when it comes to names."

"This from a man who has difficulty using my first name. How many nicknames are you up to now?"

"Seven. But my favorite is, *Stud Muffin*."

Blair shook his head, giving every indication that Jim Ellison was a lost cause.

"Come here, let me kiss my Stud Muffin."

"I'll put you *out* to stud, if you keep this up."

"Oh, baby, trust me, I can *get* it up and I can *keep* it up."

He reached over and pulled his love into his arms and they kissed, long and deep, savoring the moment. Jim inched Blair back, until he was resting against the door, and as his tongue wrapped itself around Blair's, his hand began to fumble with a zipper, and Blair moaned into his mouth. Finally Jim pulled away and scooted down, until his mouth was lined up with Blair's now fully erect cock. Before Blair could so much as breathe, Jim took him in.

"Shit, Jim, man...truck here...oh, god, public, arrested...oh, yeah, like that, god, you're fantastic... you're fucking crazy, NO! Don't stop, are you crazy? Oh, god, yeah, please, Jesus, Jim, dying here, what did you say? Shut up? Right, shut up....."

The house watched, and if Blair had been looking at the house, instead of the top of Jim's head, he would have seen four people at the window, gazing out, arms around each other. A blonde woman, her husband and their two teenaged boys. All smiling.

o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

 

End - Revenge is Sweet. and thanks to Lyrade/k9 for loading and correcting my errors! May she live in Blairheaven for the rest of her life. I kiss her feet. Blech!  
  
   
  
 


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